Chapter 31#

Heartbloom#

Aside from Feng Xianyu, Zhuo Yu, and Kong Yan, everyone else wore expressions of bewilderment.

“Still too young,” Tan Ge said, snapping his fan shut and pressing its tip against the still-twitching brow of Kong Ji. “No wonder you youngsters don’t know about it—Demon Lord Qisha is a tale from ages past.”

Tan Ge’s gaze fell on Feng Xianyu in the crowd. “Speaking of which, young master Feng, back then it was your sect leader who delivered the final blow. Though he was just starting out, his contribution was immense. If not for that, how would your esteemed father have smoothly established Qingdu Mountain?”

Feng Xianyu was taken aback.

Many years ago, the Demon Lord had burst onto the scene. His past before falling to demonic cultivation was lost to history; all that was known was that upon his emergence, he threw the world into chaos. Men feared him and called him “Qisha” (Seven Kills).

In the end, the leaders of the seven major sects had no choice but to join forces and seal him within the Demon Palace.

“Theoretically, as long as the seven sects’ lineages remain unbroken,” Tan Ge said, “he could never take another step out of the Demon Palace.”

As he spoke, a gentle strand of spiritual energy seeped into Kong Ji’s brow through the fan tip. Feng Xianyu watched as the physician, renowned for his mild and easygoing nature, suddenly changed color. Moving like lightning, he swiftly pulled open Kong Ji’s robes. The purplish-black protrusion that had previously startled Ye Shu now appeared before them without obstruction.

“What… what is this?”

One of the disciples Tan Ge had brought exclaimed involuntarily.

Tan Ge stared unblinkingly at the protrusion, tapping the swollen spot with the tip of his fan. After a moment’s contemplation, he asked, “Where are the other bodies?”

“All laid out in the side hall.” Kong Yan’s brows sank heavily. “Mountain Lord Tan, what exactly is this?”

“This is a ‘Heartbloom.’” Tan Ge let out a long sigh. “We’ve stumbled into serious trouble. It feeds on a person’s heart meridian. When the flower blooms, the person breathes their last. The stronger the heart meridian, the more viciously it grows, and the more agonizing the death. I hadn’t seen one in years—I thought it had long since vanished. How did it escape from the demon realm?”

As Feng Xianyu listened, his heart plummeted like a stone. “Does that mean if a cultivator is afflicted, they suffer far more than mortals? And the attack —the onset—is even fiercer?”

“Precisely,” Tan Ge replied.

Instantly, Kong Yan’s expression turned grim. His right hand clenched tightly, and after a long pause, his voice came through, bitter and strained: “May I ask, Mountain Lord, is there any hope for my father?”

With a snap, Tan Ge closed his bamboo fan, replacing it in his palm with seven gleaming silver needles. Holding his breath, he sent the needles flying with a shush, precisely piercing seven major acupoints: Danzhong, Baihui, Shenque, and others. Immediately, spiritual energy gushed from the needle points, flowing through the limbs and bones, wrapping around Kong Ji’s entire body, outlining bright meridians, and finally converging at the heart—like a hand grasping the so-called “Heartbloom.”

“For now, I have no solution to reverse it. I can only control its growth and temporarily prevent the situation from worsening,” Tan Ge said. Kong Yan’s body trembled visibly, then he barely steadied himself. Tan Ge gazed down at Kong Ji’s heart center with a grave expression. “This is no trivial matter. Xuanji Mountain will not shirk its duty—take me to see the other bodies. Once a Heartbloom appears, it’s no joke. Back then, it barely avoided spreading. Little Shu’er, come with me.”

Ye Shu responded with a “Yes, Master,” and hurriedly followed his teacher’s footsteps.

As he passed Feng Xianyu, he deliberately tilted his head to observe Feng Xianyu’s expression.

Disciples of the Green Sparrow Sect were moving the corpses out of the Peach Blossom Hall, now reduced to ruins, and lining them up neatly in the side hall. Tan Ge bent to examine them while listening to Ye Shu rapidly recount the sequence of events.

At the front lay Kong Xiaoyun and Ni Lu.

Ni Lu was not officially a registered disciple of Xuanji Mountain; she had only studied there as an outer disciple for a time before descending the mountain to become a rogue cultivator. This was Tan Ge’s first time seeing her.

The physician shook his head regretfully. “Such a pity.”

He then looked at Kong Xiaoyun, whose eyes were wide open, his chest bearing a massive hollow where his heart had been ripped out. Tan Ge paused, instinctively thinking Kong Yan had done it. “Nephew, why did you gouge out his heart? Where’s the flower?”

At this moment, Kong Yan’s meridians were completely drained. He was still coughing weakly, a fist pressed to his lips. “Actually…”

“It was me.”

A cold voice rang out, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. Zhuo Yu remained aloof and indifferent, his face devoid of emotion, one hand resting on the Lingzhao Sword at his waist.

Hearing Zhuo Yu’s voice, Feng Xianyu snapped out of his dazed state and quickly explained for him: “At the time, the demon cultivator had seized a body, and the situation was urgent. My senior brother acted a bit too harshly. Isn’t that right, Kong Yan?”

The corner of Kong Yan’s mouth twitched. His gaze swept across the gaping chest holes of all the other corpses in the hall, and he had no choice but to swallow his pride. “…Yes.”

Tan Ge shot Zhuo Yu several extra glances, his expression odd.

Zhuo Yu withdrew his gaze from Feng Xianyu and bluntly asked Tan Ge, “Mountain Lord says that demon cannot step out of the Demon Palace. Then, is it possible for someone to enter?”

The air stiffened. Tan Ge seemed rather puzzled. “The Demon Palace lies at the center of a stagnant lake. Hmm, it’s unlikely, but not entirely impossible. Who are you referring to?”

Zhuo Yu looked at Kong Yan. Kong Yan hesitated as if to speak, but the Kong family members immediately stopped him: “Young master!”

Tan Ge glanced left and right, a sense of foreboding rising within him. He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you talking about?”

A moment later, before Tan Ge had even finished listening, he nearly leaped up, abandoning all decorum. Pointing a finger at Kong Yan, his lips quivered with anger, and his voice nearly cracked: “My heavens! Such a huge matter, and your Green Sparrow Sect dared to conceal it! And for so many years! I know your family cares about face, but how could you care so much as to hide something like this? Can something this big really be covered up?”

Kong Yan, knowing his position was weak, said nothing, recalling the scene back then when he was surrounded by the entire Kong clan.

Tan Ge looked as if he wanted to drag Kong Ji out and beat him black and blue. He began pacing back and forth in the empty space like a man possessed. “I thought it was just some insignificant demon with no eyes, but it really is Qisha. So it really is Qisha. He escaped? How is that possible? The Demon Palace seal is still intact, and none of us seven masters have died. How could he possibly have gotten out?”

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt, whipping his head around to ask Kong Yan, “That A Lan—who exactly is he?”

Kong Yan said coldly, “A mute dog that bites.”

Feng Xianyu felt a stir in his heart. He slowly walked past the several corpses on the ground, the surrounding conversation fading into the background. Then, abruptly, he heard a light, faint bell sound from the void—it seemed to strike directly at the tip of his heart. Feng Xianyu jerked his head up to look.

At the dim end of the hall, a corpse was being carefully carried over by disciples.

“How many is this?”

“One, two, three, four, five, six… thirty-two.”

“Oh, good. Are there more?”

“No, this is the last one.”

“Alright, set it down there for now, and wait—”

Thirty-two? Feng Xianyu frowned. A moment later, he jolted—no, there were only thirty-one dead souls in Peach Blossom Hall. Where did the thirty-second corpse come from?

He shot forward, swiftly scanning the faces of each body.

These unfortunate victims all wore expressions of terror, eyes bulging, dying with their eyes wide open.

From a distance, Feng Xianyu seemed to spot something. His handsome brows furrowed, and he grabbed the Qiqi Bow from the void. Without pausing, he drew and loosed an arrow.

Zhuo Yu moved like lightning; almost as soon as the arrow was released, he had already flashed behind Feng Xianyu.

“Yu’er!” Kong Yan, with one wave after another, felt his head spinning. “What are you doing now?”

No one knew what Feng Xianyu intended. His arrow flew straight toward a woman among the corpses, seemingly about to desecrate the dead. But at that critical moment, the “corpse” on the ground suddenly flipped over, agilely dodging Feng Xianyu’s spiritual arrow.

“Who?!”

Someone shouted immediately, then added, “Another living corpse?! Weren’t they all dug out of their hearts by Zhenren Zhuo?”

—That remark made Zhuo Yu sound like a demon cultivator. Feng Xianyu muttered inwardly, then turned his attention back to the familiar figure before him. She grinned, revealing a viper-like blade from within her sleeve. “Long time no see, you two immortals.”

It was A Yue!

She wore a cultivator’s robe she had apparently stripped from somewhere, and her face no longer bore that stubbornness from before. Instead, she looked as cheerful as a spring breeze, without a trace of sorrow.

Tan Ge was not skilled in combat and had already retreated several steps with practiced ease. He raised his fan to cover his face, casting a distant glance. “Not a dead person. A demon cultivator.”

At his words, everyone gasped. The Green Sparrow Sect disciples quickly formed a defensive formation.

Kong Yan’s eyesight was poor, so he didn’t recognize the girl who had been hugging a rotting corpse on the grass.

Feng Xianyu held his golden bow, snorting coldly. “I didn’t go looking for you, yet you deliver yourself to my door!”

“I didn’t want to either, but there’s no choice.” A Yue shook her head, feigning innocence as she slowly gripped the blade in her palm. “Lord Qisha ordered me to do something—I can’t very well refuse, can I?”

Feng Xianyu was about to ask what it was, but Zhuo Yu’s sword moved faster than his words.

In the blink of an eye, Zhuo Yu shot out like a meteor. Feng Xianyu, thinking to himself that this reincarnation really had made his temper fiercer, had no choice but to draw his bow and nock an arrow. A dozen golden arrow streaks chased after Zhuo Yu, shooting forward.

In a flash, the clang of metal upon metal rang out in rapid succession.

In an instant, they had exchanged dozens of moves, each one vicious. The airflow from their attacks sent the other corpses flying outward, even knocking down a large swath of Green Sparrow Sect disciples.

Zhuo Yu’s lips pressed into a flat, cold line. Barely half a day had passed since his fierce battle with A Lan, yet he still had the energy to deal with A Yue. Silver-white, icy sword light surrounded him, but every time he struck, a golden-red spiritual arrow would come whistling in, the coordination nearly flawless.

After several such exchanges, even A Yue, whose cultivation was not low, gradually began to show signs of exhaustion.

Feng Xianyu had a sudden inspiration and called out, “You seem to have good news coming your way, lady. Have you realized that mortals are but ants? A single death is nothing to grieve over?”

No one understood what he meant, but they clearly saw the female demon’s movements stall noticeably.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhuo Yu hacked his sword down toward the back of her neck. A Yue snapped back to attention and tried to duck, only to find a cold gleam reflected deep in her pupils from in front. The sharp spiritual arrow—when had it arrived?—was less than half a centimeter from her throat!

A Yue’s pupils suddenly contracted: in just three months, how had these two improved so rapidly?

In that moment, everyone held their breath.

But then, in the next instant, a pool of foul, black water suddenly appeared under A Yue’s feet, like a beast opening its maw, swallowing her calves. Then her entire figure vanished bizarrely. In less than half a breath, she reappeared—this time pressed tightly against Feng Xianyu!

Everything was so fast that Feng Xianyu couldn’t even blink. Unable to dodge, he took A Yue’s palm strike head-on.

Boom!

Whatever artifact A Yue wielded sent Feng Xianyu hurtling violently toward the hall’s main pillar. His vision spun wildly, and he thought, This is it.

But before the impact came a cold yet gentle embrace.

—Zhuo Yu dove over and wrapped his arms around him. The two of them crashed out like a cannonball, letting out a thunderous Bang! as they actually snapped the pillar—thick enough for two or three men to encircle—clean in half!

Feng Xianyu saw stars. He lay in Zhuo Yu’s embrace, dazed for a long while.

It felt as though A Yue’s palm strike had directly hit his heart; he suspected a couple of ribs were broken. Before he could even thank Zhuo Yu, he retched and spit out a mouthful of fresh blood.

A Yue looked down at them from above, sneering. “Someone told me that getting what you desire is not the norm. Since Yan Pei wasn’t fated to grow old with me, I’ll wait for the next Yan Pei. At least it’s better than… begging for a completely different bitter fruit.”

With that, black water appeared beneath A Yue’s feet once more, swallowing her.

The pool of black water vanished along with her.

Ye Shu rushed over, dropping to one knee, only to see that Feng Xianyu had already passed out in Zhuo Yu’s arms.

He was about to reach out and probe Feng Xianyu’s meridians when he suddenly met Zhuo Yu’s frosty gaze. The whites of Zhuo Yu’s eyes were threaded with blood; his entire face was taut beyond belief, as if his breath had frozen. A murderous aura coiled around him, making Ye Shu’s eyelids twitch violently.

The Lingzhao Sword hummed restlessly. Without sparing Ye Shu a glance, Zhuo Yu pressed two fingers together against Feng Xianyu’s brow. A surging torrent of spiritual energy immediately poured into Feng Xianyu’s sea of consciousness.

“Don’t—”

Ye Shu jolted, about to say this was inadvisable—unless one was a medical cultivator or a life partner, directly channeling meridians like that would inevitably provoke the patient’s instinctual rejection and repulsion. In severe cases, it could even cause the cultivator to go into qi deviation on the spot.

But the next moment, what he saw left Ye Shu staring with wide, shocked eyes.

Feng Xianyu only mumbled something unintelligible, then accepted the foreign spiritual energy without any resistance. His sea of consciousness was calm, not a single ripple.

Feng Xianyu’s expression was as peaceful as if he had simply fallen into a sweet, dark dream.

“Yu’er!” Kong Yan moved forward to see what was happening, but a sharp pain shot through his empty meridians, causing veins to bulge on his forehead. He instinctively clutched his chest.

Suddenly, someone patted him on the shoulder, sending spiritual energy to soothe the excruciating pain of his depleted state.

“Thank you,” Kong Yan said, turning his head to see the twisted, purplish faces of Kong Xiaoyun’s parents.

In an instant, instinct screamed at him to dodge, but his barren meridians were powerless. An icy cold pierced through his abdomen. He stared in disbelief at the couple before him.